


Choices

by concede



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 10:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13634511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/concede/pseuds/concede
Summary: Prompt:Gladio only has enough time to get to one of them to save them before they get hurt.He goes to Noctis.





	Choices

The dusking sun hung low in the sky, their footfalls heavy and tired after being waylaid by yet another battle. The familiarly metallic tang of blood lingered on still-drawn weapons, their chests heaving with exertion as they made their way across rough terrain. The plumes of smoke from a nearby haven were all that prompted them to _keep going_ ; soon enough, the last dying rays of sunlight would be gone from the sky and the night-time would bring with it new horrors.

It was Gladio’s job to ensure their survival. He had sworn an oath as Shield of the King. He had held his breath and allowed the symbol of his servitude to the crown to be tattooed across his skin. It was an honour bestowed upon his family line, the males of which had served the Lucian monarchy for as far back as he knew. Gladio himself had trained from childhood, preparing for missions like these where Noctis’s life would be in his hands. Nothing else could come before his duty. Nothing else could be more important.

“Damn it,” Gladio murmured, stricken by a sudden realisation. “You’re hurt.”

He wasn’t looking at Noctis. He was looking at _Prompto_. 

Prompto laughed, swatting at the other ineffectually as he sought to examine the small graze visible on his cheek. A small bead of blood trickled down otherwise unblemished skin, a line of stark red cutting through freckles. “Relax, big guy,” he spoke lightly, playful as was his wont. “Nothing I can’t handle!”

Gladio remained unconvinced. He ignored Prompto’s faint protests, the useless swatting of his hands, and proceeded to cup his cheeks in calloused palms. He turned Prompto’s head one way and then the other, a furrow in his brow that only softened when he confirmed there were no further injuries to be found. “Would it kill you to be more careful?” he sighed.

“Hmm… Quite possibly,” Prompto joked, his smile coaxing a tender expression from the other, albeit one of heavy reluctance. “But you wouldn’t have me any other way, right? I distinctly remember you saying that once. Something about how amazing I am, how much you _love_ _me_ …”

When Gladio blushed, even his _ears_ turned red. “Shut up,” he grouched, shoving the blonde’s shoulder affectionately.

 

 

They reached the haven just before nightfall. Ignis set to work on a new recipe he’d concocted (one heavily influenced by their travels) and Noctis opted to take a nap by the warm fire. Gladio took advantage of the quiet, steering Prompto by the shoulders and setting to work on cleaning the cut himself. There was something _apologetic_ in each careful touch, the soothing dab of water and the sympathetic winces he gave whenever Prompto hissed in pain.

When he was done, he made no move to withdraw his touch. His thumb travelled the line of Prompto’s jaw, a gentle caress few would know to associate with a man who was renowned more for his strength and mettle. “Prompto,” he started to say, faltering because he didn’t know how to translate his worries into words.

What if he ever had to choose?

There was a time he wouldn’t have hesitated. Noctis was the one he was sworn to protect, after all. 

But now?

There were nights that he couldn’t sleep, staring up at the stars and wondering who he would save if he could save only one. Would he do as he had sworn to do and protect Noctis? Would he listen to his heart and save Prompto, no matter the cost? Or would he be unable to make a choice at all? That was what he feared most. What if all he could do was stare helplessly as both lives were taken in front of him, knowing he could have saved one of them if he’d only decided _faster_? What if he did save one but spent the rest of his life regretting the choice, hating himself for it because no matter what decision he made, it would never be the right one?

Prompto frowned at him, sensing the internal conflict. He brought a hand up and covered Gladio’s own, offering comfort even if he couldn’t possibly know what Gladio was thinking about. “Hey,” he said, coaxing the other from the depths of his own thoughts. “Smells like dinner’s almost ready. Talk later?”

Maybe it was naïve of him, but Gladio nodded. The prospect of ‘later’ was an easy one to offload his problems onto. For all the thought had plagued him, every battle a source of anxiety, his worries had never actually come to fruition. Prompto could handle himself in a fight and so too could Noctis. 

Perhaps he was overthinking it. 

Chances were, he would never need to make that choice.

 

 

He tried to find the right time to have the conversation with Prompto, to explain himself – his duty – and express the conflict he felt. 

But there was never a _right time_.  

And then it was too late.

 

 

When it came down to it, it was a split-second decision. 

Gladio almost forgot how to breathe, silently taking in the scene on the roof of the train. Time was moving _slowly_ , every movement exaggerated. He watched Prompto starting to fall. He watched Ardyn prepare an attack while Noctis was distracted, staring after his best friend – frozen - with horror in his eyes. 

The choice was clear.

He could grab Prompto’s hand or he could protect Noctis from Ardyn.

Gladio stepped towards Noctis almost without conscious thought, his body wrapped around the prince and his shield protecting them both from Ardyn’s attack. And he watched – they _both_ watched – as Prompto’s eyes widened in realisation, a myriad of emotions visible in that expressive face as the inevitable happened.

He fell.

He _fell_ and no matter how fast Gladio was in trying to reach him, still trying even if he knew it was impossible, there was nothing he could do but watch him vanish from sight. Duty be damned, Gladio wanted to throw himself off the still-moving train, to save Prompto.

He barely registered the saltiness of tears in his eyes until Noctis tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder. “Gladio?” He sounded worried. And beneath the immediate concern, his voice was tinged with sadness. Guilt. Prompto was his best friend. Gladio wasn’t the only one hurting. And yet, the wound was still raw. Gladio couldn’t help but force some of that blame onto the prince, hating him in that moment because he couldn’t hate himself any more than he already did.

Shrugging off Noctis’s touch, Gladio fixed the other with a cold stare as he straightened up and left his side. The threat was gone – which, if Prompto had survived the fall, did not bode well for him - and there was no need for Gladio to concentrate on Noctis in that moment.

Not to mention, he felt sick to his stomach thinking about the look in Prompto’s eyes moments before he fell.

Betrayal.

That was what it had looked like. In amidst all the other emotions, the dawning realisation and resignation, there was unspeakable sadness.

Gladio had sworn a public oath to protect Noctis.

He had made his own private vows to Prompto, whispered them at night between kisses and heated touches. He had promised that he would never let anybody hurt him. He had promised never to let him feel worthless. He had promised that he would always keep him near.

Perhaps those promises had always been fated to be sweet nothings.

 

 

For days, Gladio didn’t know whether Prompto was even alive. And if he _was_ alive, he couldn’t say if that was preferable when Ardyn most likely had his hands on him… The thought kept him awake at night, left him even more short-tempered and irritated because guilt was ripping him apart from the inside.

Noctis was suffering too. He blamed himself for pushing Prompto, though he hadn’t known it was him at the time. He almost blamed himself for the decision Gladio had made. Gladio knew (even without Ignis nagging him) that he should put the prince’s mind at ease and tell him he shouldn’t blame himself. Somehow, he just couldn’t bring himself to. Absolving Noctis of his guilt would be further condemning _himself_ , and he wondered if he was strong enough to shoulder it on his own.

The events of the last few days had given him plenty of cause to doubt his own abilities.

He wondered if Prompto would even want to see him. Gladio wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t, but he forced the thought from his mind and steeled his resolve. If there was still a chance to save Prompto, he needed to be focused on the task at hand and not distracted by anything else.

 

 

Seeing Prompto chained up, his skin pallid and bruised and eyes struggling to focus on anything, it was hard for Gladio not to see red. He kicked the nearby machinery in a futile bid to release some pent up frustration, running his fingers through his hair as Noctis and Ignis helped Prompto to his feet. 

“Hey, buddy,” the blond said lightly, voice thick with emotion. “Um. Thanks for coming back for me.” 

Gladio curled his fingers, nails digging sharply into his palms. He hated how small Prompto’s voice was. He hated how he sounded so surprised by his own value, so surprised that they would come so far to save him.

Noctis shrugged like it was nothing, offering a small smile. “Well, Gladio was actually starting to get kind of crabby without you around, so really it’s for the greater good that we came and got you back.”

At that, Prompto gave a choked laugh, tentatively looking in Gladio’s direction while the other did everything in his power to avoid making eye contact. “What can I say?” Prompto joked, though it sounded somewhat forced. Whatever had happened to him in the days he’d been gone, there was more to it than could be seen on the surface. “I have a lot of talents.”

Ignis cleared his throat, one hand settling briefly on Prompto’s shoulder. “Might I suggest we leave this facility while we still can? I believe time might not be on our side…”

Luck was not on their side either.

Escaping was no easy task, daemons aplenty ambushing them from every possible direction as they made their way back through the maze-like corridors. Gladio knew he was being obvious, being _foolish_ even, but he just couldn’t help how closely he stuck to Prompto’s side through it all.

He felt the curious weight of Prompto’s gaze on him as he forced himself between him and any potential threat that arose, determined that he would not have to watch the other fall again.

 

 

“We need to talk,” Prompto said a few days later.

Gladio sighed, taking a seat next to him. “Yeah,” he agreed. The talk was one long overdue. “We do.”

The bruises on Prompto’s skin were mostly healed, barely even visible in the low light. Gladio had wanted to rid him of every last one of them, touched him reverently like he somehow could. 

“I get it,” Prompto said after a long moment. “You feel guilty, right? That day on the train, when Noctis--- when Ardyn tricked him into pushing me?”

Though even just speaking about it made Gladio tense, he nodded jerkily. “I could have saved you,” he said, his voice low and tremulous. “I _wanted_ to save you.”

Prompto frowned, staring down at his hands as he mulled over the words for a long time. “You’re not alone, y’know? All of us - you, me and Iggy – we’re all here for Noct. We’re all on his side, to see this mission through to the end. If our positions were reversed, would you want me to save you or Noct?”

Gladio didn’t even hesitate. “Noctis,” he said quickly, firmly. “You should always save Noctis.”

Prompto smiled, leaning into his side under the guise of bumping shoulders with him playfully. “Same here, big guy. We’re more alike than you think. We all came here to help Noct. We all knew what we were getting into.” Gladio arched a brow at him and Prompto laughed, conceding: “All right, _some things_ weren’t exactly planned, but I still wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Gladio was quiet for a while, listening to the sound of Prompto’s breathing and comforting himself by counting the rhythmic beating of his heart. “What if I can’t do it?” he wondered at last, voice whisper-soft.

“You can,” Prompto insisted, meeting his gaze levelly. “For him _and_ for me. If you ever save me over him, I’d dump your ass anyway.” His tone was light, but there was a warning in his eyes nonetheless.

Gladio sighed, his nose bumping Prompto’s as he leaned down to press a tender kiss to his lips. “All right,” he agreed. “Same goes for you too, blondie. Promise?”

“Promise.”


End file.
